Don't Look Down

  "I'm fine, honey." He looked down at his bandaged hands and shot a wounded look at Lucy, clearly going for noble suffering, and Lucy thought, Sweet Jesus, and I married this guy.

  "What is your problem?" she said to him.

  "Problem?" He straightened at the tone in her voice. "I don't have a problem. I'm just trying to help my girl." He smiled at her, one hundred percent all charm.

  "I am not your girl," Lucy said, and watched his smile disappear.

  "Lucy. Come on." He glanced over at Daisy and Pepper, who weren't even pretending not to listen. "We were going to talk today, remember?"

  "No." Lucy shook her head once. "I'm sorry. No."

  His face twisted again, and she had to stop herself from saying anything else and making it worse. Then he said, "Fuck," and she followed his eyes down to his hands, blood soaking the bandages.

  "I know," Pepper said. "That's a bad word, don't use it."

  He'd clenched his hands into fists and opened his wounds, Lucy realized. He looked at her, blame in his eyes.

  "You did that," Lucy said. "Don't even think about blaming me because you made yourself bleed, or blaming Wilder either." She turned back to the set and yelled, "Doc!"

  Doc came out of the crowd, his glasses gleaming, and came toward her.

  "Grab that EMT and get Connor to the ER, please, he's bleeding again," she said, and he nodded and went toward Connor, who looked at her, rage in his eyes. Well, too damn bad. She heard tires squeal and turned as a car pulled up in a spray of gravel. Stephanie was behind the wheel, glowering at her, and beside her was Wilder, looking as blank as ever. That must have been a fun ride, Lucy thought, and then Karen got out of the backseat, looking tense, and came toward her.

  Lucy grabbed the cable that Stephanie had found and waited for

  Karen as she slowed to talk to Nash, who walked right past her as if she weren't there.

  "Aunt Lucy?" Pepper said.

  "What, Pepper?" Lucy said, watching Karen and thinking, You know something, dammit.

  "I saw the ghost," Pepper said. "It was in that building over there."

  "Okay, honey," Lucy said as Karen came toward her, and then she jerked her head to the trees on the side of the road and Karen followed her.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  When they were out of earshot, Lucy held up the cable. "I've been over this cable twenty times since it came off Bryce. Aside from Nash's blood, there's nothing wrong with it. And yet, we almost lost Bryce."

  Karen shook her head. "It wasn't the cable. The rope broke."

  "The rope?" Lucy let the cable drop to her side, confused. "What rope?"

  Karen tried to look bored and just looked tense. "There's a rope at the end of the cable, because rope gives and cable doesn't, so—"

  "Where's the rope?" Lucy said, not giving a damn about stunt theory. She wrestled with the cable until she could hold up both ends. "No rope. Where is it?"

  Karen looked surprised. "It should be tied on there," she said, pointing to the end that hadn't been hooked to Bryce. "Somebody probably threw it away or it fell out somewhere." She shrugged again. "It broke. It happens."

  "Does it now?" Lucy crossed her arms. "You'd think if it happened, they'd find a better way. After they'd dropped, oh, say, half a dozen people like eggs on the pavement, you'd think they'd say, 'You know, the thing about this kind of rope is, it breaks' And then they wouldn't use it anymore."

  Karen watched her, stony-faced.

  Lucy leaned forward. "Listen to me. I am not your enemy, but I am your boss. You are on my team, and you answer to me, and you are going to tell me right now what the hell happened up there."

  Karen shrugged. "The bolt on the front of the right skid gave way when Bryce put his weight on it. Then the rope that holds the cable to the tie-down in the copter broke. Wilder grabbed it and Nash grabbed the cable and the two of them held Bryce off the ground until I could get him down."

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Was Wilder responsible?"

  Karen shrugged again. "I don't know. I just fly the bird."

  "Why was Bryce on the skid?"

  "He wanted it," Karen said bitterly. "He said he'd shut down the shoot for a week if he didn't get to do it. Wilder and Nash both tried to talk him out of it."

  "Wilder did?"

  Karen nodded.

  "Hell,' Lucy said, knowing they'd been stuck. But Connor should have stopped the stunt. Which meant that finishing the movie on Finnegan's schedule was more important than keeping Bryce safe. Big money, she thought. He'd sacrifice damn near anybody for a great payday. She looked around to see if he'd left and saw him talking to Doc, Stephanie standing close behind.

  Karen watched them, too, her face flushed.

  "I don't know what this is, Karen," Lucy said, and watched Karen flinch as she said her name, making it personal, "but whoever's behind it, he's not on your side. The sabotage shows you that. Who else is going to catch hell for a defective copter except the pilot who checked it out?"

  Karen looked startled for a second, as if she hadn't thought of that, which rattled Lucy more than anything else. Karen was following Connor blindly.

  "Whatever it is," Lucy said, "get out now.'

  Karen stared back at her, unblinking, and Lucy sighed. "Get ready to try it again. And double-check the skid bolts when the copter gets here. I do not want to see Captain Wilder do what Bryce just did."

  Karen nodded and went back to the set, and Lucy followed her out into the sunlight, where Wilder waited, staring out at the swamp, his face as impassive as ever. Probably looking for Moot to wrestle.

  He's a monosyllabic, deadpan, tight-assed military man, she thought. But he did not sabotage that stunt. In fact, if he'd been the one on the skid…

  In her mind, she saw him falling from the copter, smashing onto the pavement, bones cracking, blood spattering—

  And he was going up there again, to fall out of the damn thing on purpose.

  "Jesus," she said and went toward him just as the sound of an inbound helicopter echoed over the set once more. Wilder looked up and then headed toward the landing spot near where the gravel road met the highway.

  Lucy picked up speed to catch him, reaching him only when he slowed as the helicopter came in for a landing. She stepped in front of him to stop him before they got in earshot of the crew. "Listen, you don't have to do this. You don't have to be a hero. We—" She stopped when he grinned at her. "What? I'm serious here."

  "Oh," he said. "Sorry. Thought it was a movie quote. That 'you don't have to be a hero' thing."

  "Movie quote," Lucy said. "At a time like this, you're thinking movie quotes."

  "Well, it's from High Noon."

  "Wonderful. High Noon." Lucy took a deep breath. "And now, returning to reality, we can do without this shot. We—"

  "No, you can't." He looked up at the chopper, probably checking for loose bolts. "That part of the script I did read."

  "Great." She swallowed. "Fine time you picked to get literate."

  "I liked the action parts. The love stuff made me sleepy." He smiled at her, and her heart picked up speed.

  "We can fake it," she told him. "Have them edit the stuff we've got so it looks okay. Or just cut the scene. The hell with Finnegan, this movie is not worth dying for."

  "I never fake it," he said, looking into her eyes. "And nobody's going to die." Then he looked past her, his face blank again, and she turned and saw Connor waiting for him as the helicopter landed, heavy leather gloves on over his bandages and Doc standing beside him looking miserable.

  "What the hell?" Lucy strode toward him. "What are you doing here?" She glared at Doc. "You were supposed to take him to the ER."

  "They take too long." Connor put his arm around her, dangling a gloved hand by her chin, but his eyes were on Wilder, who had followed her over. "Don't get mad, Lucy, love, you know I hate hospitals."

  Wilder looked at them both, his eyes impassive.

  Great, she thought. A macho stare-o
ff.

  "Besides," Connor said, "I have a stunt to finish."

  "Oh, no," Lucy said, louder than she'd meant to, and Connor pulled his arm away. "You're hurt. If something else happens up there, you'll rip your hands up again." And you won't save Wilder. She turned to Doc. "You're going up in the helicopter with Wilder."

  "Lucy—" Connor said, holding the gloves up.

  "You're not going up there," Lucy said to him. "That's final." He stared at her for a moment, fury in his eyes, and she said, "Don't clench your hands."

  He turned and walked away, not looking back.

  "Don't screw this up, Rambo," she said, not looking at Wilder.

  "That was my plan. Not screwing up."

  "Funny." Lucy headed for video village, catching Doc's arm as she went, pulling him backward with her. "I do not want anything bad to happen to Captain Wilder."

  Doc trotted backward faster to keep up with her. "Okay, Lucy."

  "And I am counting on you to make sure that it doesn't."

  "Okay, Lucy."

  "Because if it does…" Lucy stopped and he overshot her, stepping forward to meet her again, his round face full of dread behind his glasses. "Your ass is mine. Two things had to go wrong up there for that last stunt to fail. A third thing on this one, and I'm getting a new stunt team."

  Doc looked wounded. "Lucy, we—"

  "Know more than you're saying," Lucy said. "I don't know what's going on with you guys, but nobody gets hurt again. Understand?"

  "Yes," 'Doc said. "Nobody was supposed to get hurt."

  Lucy grabbed his arm again. "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing," Doc said, sheet white now. "I wouldn't hurt anybody, Lucy. You know that."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing." Doc stopped and tried again. "What I meant was that, on a good stunt, nobody ever gets hurt."

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Whatever you guys are doing, it's over. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Lucy," Doc said.

  "Good," Lucy said, not believing him for a moment. "Tell the others. And make damn sure that Wilder lands in one piece and walks away when this is done."

  "He will." Doc's face was sober with sincerity. "He will, Lucy, I swear."

  Lucy nodded. "Okay." She jerked her head toward the helicopter. "Showtime."

  Doc nodded and ran, and Lucy turned to see Wilder by the copter, watching them both.

  If I were a decent human being, I wouldn't let either one of you go up

  there, she thought, and stared at him a moment too long, reading the look on his face as sympathy for her. He shook his head and gave her a thumbs-up and climbed into the copter, and she thought, Oh, hell, and cared too much, which was stupid, she didn't care at all. The macho asshole had a Rambo complex, testosterone poisoning, thought he was immortal, never say die…

  Don't die, she thought and sat down behind the monitors, her throat tight.

  Wilder watched Lucy go back to the monitors, trying not to think about the way she walked. He was on a mission and she was part of it. You did not think that the mission had a great ass. You also did not notice that the mission seemed to care a lot whether you lived or died. And you definitely didn't like it that she did.

  The mission, he thought and looked away to see the maintenance pilot climb out of the copter and bend his head close to Karen's, the two of them doing pilot talk. The blades were whooping by overhead very slowly, on idle, the engine purring so deeply that he couldn't hear what they were saying. Hurry up, Wilder thought, looking at the sky. The light was going fast and Lucy needed the shot. Several takes of the shot unless he didn't use the cable. He headed for the helicopter. Wilder climbed into the right front seat, the better to hear Karen and the test pilot, but Bryce came up and leaned in.

  "Hey, man. Thanks once more."

  Wilder nodded, trying to overhear the conversation beside him. Then the maintenance pilot walked away and he gave up and concentrated on the stunt and what Lucy needed.

  "I mean it, man," Bryce said.

  "No problem. It's my job." The smart thing would be to do the stunt without the cable.

  "That's twice you saved my butt," Bryce said. "I know it's your job, but that was really…"

  Wilder looked up and thought he saw tears forming in Bryce's eyes.

  Even taking into consideration that Bryce was an actor, it was disconcerting. "Hey, you're my wingman."

  "Oh, man," Bryce said, really tearing up. "J.T., you're just—"

  "Gotta get to work," Wilder said fast, and Bryce nodded and backed off, frowning like a man and giving him a thumbs-up.

  "You bet," he said. "Roger that."

  Oh, Christ, Wilder thought, and then Nash came up, blocking Bryce, and Wilder stiffened. Nash thrust the MP-5 stunt gun at him harder than necessary. "I checked it, but you can double-check if you want."

  "I trust you," Wilder said, and Nash nodded, fury in his eyes, and walked off.

  As soon as Nash's back was turned, Wilder checked the gun. It was all right, the cable would be okay this time, and if they were going to move as slowly as they'd moved before, go in as low…

  He could do it without the cable, easy. Lucy had three cameras doing coverage. If he didn't use the cable, they could probably get it all in one shot. He looked at the sky again. They'd have to do it in one shot if they wanted the light. Plus, he wanted to spend as little time as possible in the air when there was potentially a person with a big gun somewhere around.

  Doc climbed into the back, his face grim, carrying a kit bag. He pulled out the cable, a new rope, and a body harness.

  Wilder shook his head. "Forget it."

  Doc blinked in confusion. "Forget what?"

  "No harness. No wire. We're doing this thing in one shot. I'll shoot from the skid and do the jump."

  Doc's jaw dropped. "B-but Lucy—"

  Wilder didn't give him a chance. "The cable didn't do Bryce much good. We don't have enough daylight to do this a couple of times. And I need a fucking beer. So, one shot. Roger that?"

  Doc snapped his mouth shut. "Lucy's going to be pissed."

  "Lucy is already pissed," Wilder said, liking the way "Lucy" sounded when he said it. "She'll get over it. And she'll get the shot she needs. Anything else?"

  Doc looked at him for a moment and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a large bronze coin, slightly bigger than a silver dollar. "Coin check."

  Wilder nodded, knowing that was Doc's way of telling him that he had his back. He decided to leave his in his pocket. "Fuck you. I don't have mine. I owe you a drink."

  "And me." Karen was in the pilot's seat. "Anyone in hand-grenade-burst radius, right?"

  "And you," Wilder said. He hoped they were thirsty enough that they'd keep him alive so he could buy them the drinks. "What did the mechanic say about the bird?" Wilder asked as Doc put the coin back in his pocket.

  Karen put her hands on the controls. "He said he had no clue why the skid broke, but it won't break again."

  Not a smart-ass answer, but not the whole truth, either, he was pretty sure. With a slight shudder, the helicopter lifted. Wilder felt a tap on the shoulder. Doc was holding a headset, mouthing the word Lucy.

  Fuck. He put the headset on.

  "Everything all right?" Lucy asked.

  "Roger."

  "Skid okay?"

  "It's still attached, right? You have a better view than me."

  "Funny guy. How about the cable?"

  "It's fine."

  "The rope?"

  "Good."

  "The harness?"

  "Lucy, everything's fine." He looked back at the kit bag on the floor next to Doc's feet where he assumed all the equipment was in top-notch condition. "It's all fine." She was still quiet, so he said, "Lucy?"

  "Be careful," she said, and he wasn't sure what had happened but he knew she was rattled. When she spoke again, she was herself. "Listen, Rambo, if you splat on the road, our insurance premiums double."

  That would serve Finnegan righ
t, Wilder thought. "Look, I've done this a million times. Sometimes with people shooting real bullets at me. Now stop bothering me and direct the damn movie."

  He didn't wait for her response, just took off the headset and tossed it over his shoulder to Doc.

  The chopper was at a hover. The convertible was ahead and below, Althea in the front seat with Rick. Everything started moving, in slow motion just like before, and Wilder fought back a laugh. They think this is dangerous? Ivy coming in on a hot landing zone with green tracers punching through the night looking like they were headed right between your eyeballs, and the pilot pushing the bird to the max, full speed because he did not want to be in the area one second longer than he had to, and knowing you were going to jump right into the middle of some heavy, honest-to-God real shit while the door gunners were blazing away in the other direction, their red tracers screaming by the green ones.

  Doc nodded to him, and Wilder stepped out onto the skid, finding it without looking down because it was where the goddamn skid was supposed to be. He tested it, keeping half his weight in the bird, then stood outside, one hand on the door frame, the other holding the MP-5. He flexed his legs and did a slight hop on the skid, earning a quick glance from Karen, who felt the chopper move. Wilder smiled at her. He figured she probably wanted to give him the finger but a helicopter pilot always had to keep two hands on the controls.

  Down in the car, Rick turned and pointed a pistol at the chopper and for a moment Wilder felt a surge of adrenaline. Then Rick fired several times, blanks, and Wilder relaxed. He swung the MP-5 up and fired his own burst, knowing if the damn thing were loaded with real bullets, he'd just put a stitch of rounds in the bad guy from lower chest up through his head, but of course in the movie the good guy missed. Stupid good guy.

  The villain fired a couple of more times and missed. Stupid bad guy

  Wilder leisurely returned the fire, figuring it must look good on film, but feeling really dumb since the car and helicopter were moving at about five miles an hour. Stupid everybody.

  Karen brought them even closer. Wilder dropped the MP-5 to dangle on its sling as they closed in on the car, ever so slowly. When it was twelve feet below him, he gauged the distance to the back of the car.